What if that seemingly irrelevant shot, blurry and showing no discernible subject, is the downstream neurological spark of some elegant surrealistic moment?
What could art possibly mean to a global population that spends most of its days eking out meager livings on the rough streets of Bangalore, Dar es Salaam, or Medellin? What does art possibly mean to the people who spend their days pouring over spreadsheets working to score points with the House Appropriations Committee?
When an idea is only as good as its ability to hold space until the next idea flickers onto our screen, a more fundamental devaluing of life has begun to take hold.
A life spent with all things largely known at daybreak is unlikely to yield much in the way of success when the sun goes down. Success usually comes from the discovery of something that was unknown, be that a new business partnership, a piece of art, or smartly executed social media campaign.
Great creative acts often provoke feelings of inevitability, as if they make so much sense that the only reason you didn’t do it yourself is because someone else got to it first.
When technology becomes a cultural pursuit in and of itself, our collective humanity suffers.
When not presented overtly, violence often gets portrayed by proxy, with comic or athletic or financial scenarios standing in for a good physical thumping.
I worry that the story of how it got there and all of the many decisions that brought it into being—who designed it, who manufactured it, who shipped it, sold it, took it home, wore it, and ultimately hung it up for perpetuity might never be told.
When frames of reference are no longer tightly tethered to the real world, do we share as much with each other when we consume each others imagined experiences?
Creativity takes a gutsy, tireless person to see something in the intangible spaces between us, something you can’t touch or easily characterize.